And a New Game
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: Flynn and Eve are on a date, Ezekiel's off being "awesome" elsewhere, and Jenkins is archiving. Which means Cassandra and Jacob have some time to themselves, all by themselves. Whatever can be done to pass the time?


**A/N: because there can never be enough smut, that's why. ;) Also, if the French is off, blame Google Translate.**

* * *

"Jacob!" Cassandra hissed under her breath when the historian pulled her into an all-too-familiar room. "Jacob, this is Mr. Jenkins' lab. When you said, 'go somewhere quiet,' I didn't think you meant Mr. Jenkins' lab! We could get caught."

Historian in question grinned as he slid the door shut and locked it, then turned to wrap arms around her waist. "I know." He pressed a kiss to her lips once, briefly, then pulled back to give her a wicked leer. "That's what makes it so good, darlin'. Like makin' out in a classroom when the teacher's at lunch."

Cassandra blushed very prettily, the bright pink flush spreading down her cheeks into her neck, and he so wanted to trace the path of her blush with his lips to see how far down it spread. "Isn't he going to wonder why he's locked out of his own lab?" she asked.

"Oh, he might...except that he's down in the Modern Artifacts wing archiving the new stuff that Flynn brought back. And Jones is off being a pain in the ass elsewhere, and Flynn has taken Eve out to dinner for their anniversary. So we've got the place to ourselves," Jacob replied, winked, and pulled her in close, kissing her again. She sighed happily against his mouth, arms sliding around his neck; he placed his hands on her hips, rubbing his thumbs over her hipbones until she all but purred and wriggled against him. He broke away from the kiss first, cursing the human need for oxygen, and pulled back to look at her. "See what I mean?" he asked, and she giggled.

With hands still on her hips, he walked her backwards until they bumped into the table; he lifted her up so she sat on the table, now almost of even height with him. They kept kissing, and Cassandra slipped her clever little fingers in his hair, nails scratching over his scalp. Jacob groaned softly against her lips, pulling her tighter against him, and he moved forward until her knees were on either side of his hips, standing only just between her legs.

She squeezed her knees on his hips, and he groaned happily, tongue curling against hers. One of his hands had inched its way up her leg of its own will whilst the other one stayed safely on her waist. It wasn't until he was tracing the absolute top of her stockings—not tights today, just stockings—and the garters holding them up that she squeaked against his mouth, and he realised what he was doing.

Jacob yanked his hand back. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled. "Got a bit carried away."

"It's alright," she replied, but she was just as flushed, breathing a hair too quickly.

There had been several incredibly hot make-out sessions, and they had slept in the same bed a few times, fully dressed, but he and Cassandra had yet to actually make love. Jacob didn't mind waiting. He knew that his Cassie was hesitant about sex after a few less-than-pleasant encounters, and he wouldn't push. Not to say he didn't want more and felt a little twinge of disappointment when she called to stop.

As he brought his breathing back under control, an idea struck him. A very naughty, very inappropriate-for-work kind of idea, but an idea nonetheless. "Cass?" he asked, and she made a questioning hum. "I know that we're takin' it slow an' all, an' I ain't complaining about that, but...maybe we could try something... _else,"_ he suggested, lowering his voice slightly and placing his hand back on her thigh.

Her lashes fluttered slightly at the contact. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean, intercourse ain't the only game to play, darlin'," he replied, even as he thought, _She's gotta know what I mean. There's no way that she's never had at least one damn boyfriend do this for her._

"What else is there?" she asked so-innocently, and the look she gave him was so honestly, genuinely puzzled that he couldn't help but smile even as his suspicions were confirmed.

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation, he dropped to his knees in front of her, curled his hands just behind her knees, and pulled her forward until she was sitting on the very edge of the table. He canted his head back to look at her, hands still lightly caressing her legs. And even if he thought that she looked cute when she was puzzled, the look on her face now—surprised, flustered, pleased, intrigued all at once—won hands-down.

 _"Jacob Stone,"_ she hissed in a positively scandalized tone, blushing even deeper when she finally grasped his meaning. "Are you—you want to—what about—"

"Try finishing one of those sentences, darlin'," he chortled, still rubbing his hands up and down her thighs.

Cassandra bit her lower lip. "In _Jenkins' lab?"_ she asked in a tiny voice.

"Mm." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her knee, and he heard her whimper softly. "You could tell me to stop," he suggested, aiming for light but offering her the out at the same time. He kissed her other knee; delicate fingers slid back through his hair. When she didn't immediately reply, he raised his gaze to her face. "Cassie?" _Say the word, and I'll stop. Just say the word,_ he tried to tell her with his eyes.

"I-I could," she agreed, stroking his hair again, and the silent, _But I won't,_ was clear in her gaze.

Smiling, Jacob pressed his lips to her knee and began to inch his way up her legs, tracing a path up each thigh with soft kisses, nibbles, and brushes of his tongue and hearing her whimper softly above him. He traced a line over her femoral artery with the tip of his tongue, then blew softly on the damp fabric of her stockings just to feel her shiver; turning his head, he administered the same treatment to her other thigh. Without raising his head, he slid his hands upwards, pushing her skirt up out of the way, and this time she didn't pull back. A thrill of utter delight shivered across his nerves at the lack of resistance, the absence of protest. She trusted him enough to do this for her when nobody else had.

Cassandra let out a little squeal when he reached her garters and playfully snapped the elastic against her skin, chortling low in his throat. She tugged on his hair in retaliation, not enough to hurt, just enough for him to _feel_ it. "If you keep teasing me, I'm gonna have to kill you," she warned him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, pitching his voice into a low growl because according to her, when he growled he sounded like indigo and tasted like candied chestnuts. He placed a careful love-bite on her inner thigh just above the lacy tops of her stockings, then drew aside the silken bit of nothing that passed for underwear and leant forward.

Oh, dear _God._ His Cassie might smell like strawberries, but she tasted like honey. He felt her entire body jerk above and around him, hands clenching in his hair almost spasmodically as she moaned aloud. Jacob curled his hands around her hips, holding her steady so she didn't fall off the edge of the table, and alternated between circling her clit and stroking her folds with his tongue. He'd always liked oral sex, both giving and receiving, but feeling Cassandra tremble and whimper and shake under his ministrations was by far the best thing he'd ever done with a woman, and Jesus, she was so _responsive._ She'd really never had anybody go down on her before; oh, Lord, the things that he could show this woman...

When she began panting a little faster, hands tightening in his hair again, he took one hand from her hips and slipped one finger into her, sliding back and forth before adding another. Cassandra let out a sound that fell somewhere between a yelp and a shriek, her legs curling around his back. The chunky heels of her Mary Janes dug into his ribs, but to hell with it, he'd wear the marks with pride. Realising that he'd found her sweet spot, he curled his fingers in her again just as he pressed his tongue over her clit, and he felt her tighten and spasm around his fingers, tasting her anew as she came, crying out to a god she didn't always believe in between breathless whimpers of his name.

Cassandra slumped forward as if her spine had become liquid, and he slid his free hand up from her hip to splay across her belly, helping to keep her upright. _"Qu'est-ce que tu as fait?_ _Où avez-vous appris cela?"_ she gasped, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other braced on his shoulder; her head was hanging forward, hair curtaining around her face so he couldn't see her expression.

 _"D'abord par la lecture, puis par l'application pratique,"_ he replied as he raised his head and sat back on his heels, wondering if perhaps he'd pushed too far. "I didn't know you spoke French."

"Had to take an elective. Couldn't just have math class," she mumbled back. Keeping his left hand against her stomach, he reached up and pushed her curls back, tilting his head to see her face clearly. Cassandra was flushed and smiling, eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, strings of shimmering integers danced around the edges of her vision in delicate swirls of colour.

Jacob smiled, the brief tension unwinding from his chest. Holding the table for balance, he stood up straight and was eminently pleased when she all but melted into him, arms sneaking around his waist, legs curled lightly around his hips. He tilted her face up to him and kissed her, hearing her murmur wordlessly against his lips at the taste of herself on his tongue.

When they parted again, Cassandra burrowed into the crook of his neck with a happy little sigh. "Thank you, Jacob."

He kissed the top of her head. "Anytime, darlin'," he answered quietly, stroking her back.

Holding onto his waist for balance, she slid forward off the table, wobbling a little on her feet, and he hissed softly through his teeth when she pressed into him, against his denim-clad erection. Cassandra looked up at him with a contemplative gleam in the depths of her eyes, and before he could ask what she was thinking of, she'd turned them around so _he_ was leaning back against the table and slid down to kneel in front of him, abruptly reversing their positions. "Cassie, darlin', you ain't gotta—" he started to protest, but then she slipped one of her soft little hands down the front of his jeans, and he choked. _"Mon Dieu. Avez-vous déjà fait cela?"_ he asked, lacing his fingers into her hair out of reflex.

She looked up at him through her lashes demurely, smiling as she unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zip. _"Non. Mais je suis un apprenti rapide avec un très bon professeur,"_ she replied.

Oh, hell. Who was he to argue with that kind of logic?

* * *

Jenkins muttered under his breath as he ran down the list of new items in the Modern Artifacts wing, mentally checking off each one as he read it. It'd taken him an hour longer than he had intended, but if there was one thing he had an over-abundance of, it was time to spare.

He was still reading the list and was sufficiently distracted when rounding the corner that he didn't notice Cassandra until he nearly knocked the dear girl over. "Oh, dear, terribly sorry, Ms. Cillian," he apologised, righting the mathematician with hands on her shoulders. "I'm afraid I wasn't paying a bit of attention to where I was going. I've just finished archiving." He brandished the list of new artifacts in one hand.

"Oh, it's alright, Mr. Jenkins," she reassured. "I wasn't really paying attention, either. Thinking about...stuff. Math things and..." She made a gesture to her temples in vague indication of both her synesthesia and her constantly-calculating thoughts.

"I see. Are you alright, Ms. Cillian? You look a bit flushed," he noted, seeing the colour in her face.

Cassandra blinked rapidly, reaching up to touch her cheeks. "Am I? Oh. Probably just getting a little too far in my own head again. I'll just...go sit down and relax a moment," she replied, then offered him a brilliant smile as she drifted past.

 _She seems oddly happy today. I wonder if perhaps she has been making headway in her...mathemagics,_ the old knight mused, turning her curious new term over in his mind with some amusement. Deciding it wise not to attempt reading and walking again, he tucked the archive list under one arm and resumed in the direction of his lab. He was only a few steps away from the doors when Jacob stepped out of the lab. "Mr. Stone, I didn't realise you were here," Jenkins said. "I thought you'd retreated to the Historical Architecture wing."

The young man nodded affirmatively. "I was just heading back over there, actually."

"Was there something you needed from my lab, Mr. Stone?" asked, as it was highly unusual for any of the Librarians to enter his lab without him there.

Jacob paused and shook his head, but then a smile spread across his face, the satisfied grin of the cat who got the canary. "Nope. Just a game, Jenkins. That's all," he called back as he walked away. "Just playing a new game."


End file.
